


rhythm of rise and fall

by sleepinnude



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Waltzing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 12:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15024359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepinnude/pseuds/sleepinnude
Summary: Molly asks Caleb to dance and gets more than he bargained for.





	rhythm of rise and fall

Molly almost doesn’t hear Caleb when he sits down nearby. There’s just the faintest rustle of overcoat, but Molly didn’t get this far in his two years by not being observant. He tilts a look to the human and gives the briefest of nods. Caleb returns it then goes about hiding his face in his tankard.

Molly waits until the man has a full throat before commenting, “You’re quite the dancer.”

It has the desired effect -- that is, Caleb swallowing wrong and having to work through coughs, sputtering. “Pardon?” he says after a moment, voice rough through the accent.

“The other night. Waltzing.” Molly offers a smirk and tracks the blush rising just under Caleb’s scruff. “I’ve seen some very impressive performances of dance with the circus, of course. But nothing like that.”

“You’ve never seen a drunken man forget how to waltz?”

Molly brushes past the self-deprecating with a nod. “You clearly knew what you were doing, even as many drinks in as you were. Jester enjoyed herself.”

Caleb looks caught out at that, his eyes on the table. His face clearly wears the machinations of his mind attempting to process this conversation. “I’m glad for that, at least. Jester deserves fun.”

“Oh, she finds it,” Molly counters. The other tiefling is at the bar as they speak, conning Fjord and Nott through some newly-learned card game. He waits another moment, until Caleb has taken another swallow, and then asks, “Would you dance with me?”’

Caleb doesn’t so much choke and cough this time but gag faintly before inhaling deep. “I...suppose I could.”

Molly claps his hand together once, delighted. “Splendid!” Shoving his nearly-empty mug away, he rises. Caleb looks up, the same sort of expression on his face as when they enter a fray. “Don’t look so terrified, love,” he casts off with a laugh. “You’ll be leading after all. How much trouble can I get you into?”

As they move to the dance floor, Molly can just make out a muttered comment from Caleb. “I imagine that you could find trouble in a windowless room, Mr. Mollymauk.”

“I’ll proudly take the characterization,” Molly answers. And then they’re dancing.

✼

Molly had never danced like this before. Any dancing he had done had been more rambunctious, less structured. Jigs and swings, with clapping and thigh-slapping. The steady 1, 2, 3 is new and he finds he has to focus to follow well with Caleb. All of this was more or less a ruse in hopes of finding a blush and smile in that beard of a face. But he’s quickly caught up in the strains of learning. New experiences are always of interest to Molly and almost every experience is new.

So he sets his attention on Caleb’s body entirely. Molly doesn’t think he has ever seen the man quite so comfortable in his body and its a treat. His arms are straight and solid, chest up and out, chin high. Molly knows what muscle memory looks like but it’s still something to see. And the deep core of Molly -- the part that had been him for all his years not just the last two -- thrums with the desire to have known this Caleb as well. The Caleb that was at once confident and gay and easy to smile, quick to love.

Caleb makes a deft move that even Molly can’t quite follow and they’re facing the same direction, side-by-side with hips touching. Both their hands are clasped, one pair resting at the middle of Molly’s torso and something sizzles low, like the ends of the crackers Beau had been so enchanted with. At that point, Molly stops trying to pay attention and sends himself careening to sensation. He lets himself feel what it feels like, to have Caleb leading him, to have Caleb strong and sure.

This is not the drunken revelry of the other night. This is not some half-remembered step seen through ale and ash. Molly tracks it. This is the second life of this dance, something new made from what it was and what Caleb is now. At once Molly remembers that they both bear the burden of pasts, second starts, release. 

Almost without realizing it, Molly announces, “I’m dizzy.” It’s his voice, but not, much softer and deeper. His eyes catch on Caleb’s through fringe. “Perhaps we should stop.”

A smile shows faint -- like the light Caleb summons under his handkerchief. Glowing dim but there, and enough. “We have stopped, Mr. Mollymauk.”

And they have -- Caleb has somehow worked them to an edge of the floor, other dancers have since filled in the space. When Molly looks up further, he sees that Jester, Fjord, and Nott have abandoned the bar for their table and the rest of their party. All eyes are clear on him and Caleb. “Thank you for the dance. For teaching me, Mr. Caleb.”

Caleb’s back is still straight, his chin is still level. Molly can imagine him in regal dress, high robes, marks of status. Still in perfect form, Caleb finds a sweeping bow. “The pleasure was mine,” he says.

Before Molly can gather himself, regain his wit, come back with some response, Caleb has quit the room. There’s just the tail of his coat, vanishing up the staircase.

✼

When Molly returns to the table, Jester is upon him. She sings Caleb’s praises for a moment, complimenting his dancing. Stopping, she finds Molly’s eyes. “Did he call you Astrid too?”

Molly shakes his head, absent. “No. He called me Mr. Mollymauk.”

Beau seems confused by that. “Well, that’s your name.”

An exasperated sigh to the monk helps Molly find his footing. “Yes, dear Beau, it is. Thank you.” Conversation rises around them once more and Molly lets it dance and bounce around him. He steadfastly wonders about their wizard, about the life he left behind, about second starts.

He wonders just how hard it would be for him to learn to waltz.

**Author's Note:**

> guess who's back on her bullshit!!! it's yr girl!!  
> the title is from a quote by len goodman. the dance i was thinking of was the waltz that maria and captain von trapp dance because i'm that kind of queer. and yes, the ending is modeled after anastasia this was titled "never should have let them dance" on tumblr.  
> speaking of, witness me on [tumblr](http://disasternein.tumblr.com)


End file.
